


How To Steal A Million Hearts

by Magnumdongus



Category: How to Steal a Million (1966), Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
Genre: I really shouldn't have tagged it as LOA but theres a little easter egg, M/M, i wanted to do an altered retelling of a really good movie, listen this is just really gay ok?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:23:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnumdongus/pseuds/Magnumdongus
Summary: An altered retelling of the movie How To Steal a Million Dollars. Audrey Hepburn's character is replaced by my (male) OC, who, as the story goes, falls in love with Peter O'Toole's character: Simon.This is basically just the movie in text form but it's not completely plagiarized and it's really fucking gay.Enjoy!





	1. An Unexpected Break-in

The book I was reading was fascinating. It was a novel about a great war hero that travels to the Middle East to restore peace among the warring tribes. It was quite exciting. The writing was funny and descriptive, and the characters were very believable. I was almost to the end of the 7th chapter when there was a CLUNK downstairs. I gasped lightly and almost dropped the book on my face. I sat up, reaching for my glasses as I sat up and stepped out of bed. If it’s Father, I’ll be fine. If it’s not, I hope they enjoy seeing me in my black t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. I carefully slinked down the stairs, hoping my hair wouldn’t shine in the moonlight, giving me away. I crept down the curved staircase, hiding behind the banner. I heard someone, or something, shuffle near the wall close to me. I peeked over the banner rail and saw the silhouette of a person bringing the Van Gogh painting Father had forged off the wall. I doubt whoever that person is knows it’s fake, and I wasn’t about to tell them. I turned around, looking for something to scare the intruder off and spotted the old revolvers on the wall. I carefully picked one off, trying my best not to make any sound. Unfortunately, this failed miserably as the gun coming off of its holder make a clicking sound. I heard the quiet scuffling of the person below me stop for a moment. I froze as well. Then I heard them move again and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I crept down to the last step and crouched down, tiptoeing over to the light switch. I switched on the light quickly and immediately stood up straight, holding the gun in front of me at the intruder, who stopped dead in their tracks, hiding behind the painting they were trying to steal.

“Put. It. Down.” I commanded.

The person slowly lowered the painting and I had to consciously force myself not to gasp. This intruder had the most striking eyes I had ever seen. They were like the color of beautiful sapphires, twinkling in the bright living room lights. I had to force myself to look away, just for a moment.

“I’m not going to ask again,” I said, bringing the gun to chest level, “Put the painting back.”

The intruder lowered the painting to their chest, and I mentally cursed whatever god had decided to put me through this. Not only did this stranger’s eyes remind me of the noon sky on a sunny day, but his face was also something that could rival one of the beautiful Greek statues of gods and heroes past.

“Is that… gun loaded?” he asked hesitantly in a soft British accent.

I looked down at the revolver. I honestly wasn’t sure.

“Of course it is,” I replied.

He looked downtrodden and slowly turned to hang the painting back on the wall. I was surprised to see that he was somewhat dressed up, in a black suit, complete with tie and fancy shoes.

“What kind of burglar are you anyways, sneaking around in dress shoes and a suit?” I asked, gesturing with the revolver.

He chuckled and turned back to me, his hand outstretched slightly for the gun. “I’m what you would call a “society burglar.” I rob rich people, in other terms. Now would you please put the gun down?”

I took a step back. “No,” I said, “Keep your hands up. I’m going to call the police.”

His eyes widened, and he looked almost scared. “Listen, you caught me now, how about I leave, and we call it a draw?”

I laughed and began dialing the police.

He took another step forward, much closer to me, and I took a quick pace backward and jolted the gun up. Unfortunately, it was an old gun, and the sudden movement set it off. There was a loud bang, and the man almost did a flip as he dropped to his knees in what I could only imagine being shock. I put the phone and the revolver down.

“Are...Are you alright?” I asked rather sympathetically. Even if he did try to rob me, I don’t want him getting hurt. At least not in my living room.

He reached into the sleeve of his jacket, and when he pulled his hand out, there was blood on his palm. He then proceeded to fall over from what I must’ve been even more shock. I grabbed him before he hit the ground, as his head hitting the hard wooden floor wouldn’t have been good for him either.

I hauled him over to the nearest dining room chair and went to fetch some iodine. I came back to him unbuttoning his shirt, exposing part of his chest and entire right arm, cut and all. Just based on what I saw, he seemed to be slightly thin. Not malnourished, but underweight. Weird, I always thought burglars were more muscular so that they can climb into tall buildings and fight off the inhabitants.

I poured a small amount of iodine onto a clean cloth and was about to put it to the cut when he said:

“W-Will it hurt?”

“Hurt?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, hurt…” He replied.

“You know,” I said, “For a burglar, you’re not very tough.”

“Well, like I said I’m a society burglar. I don’t expect many people to go around shooting me.” He said.

I laughed. “Alright. Now, this won’t hurt much. Count to five.”

He braced himself, shutting his eyes.

“One, t-two, thr-OUCH.”

As soon as he said three I pressed the cloth to his wound. I had hoped the shock would offset the actual pain, little as it may be.

“Oh come now, it didn’t hurt  _ that _ much,” I said, wiping the excess iodine off and applying a clean bandage.

“Well there’s no way I can drive home like this,” he exclaimed, clutching his shoulder, “It hurts far too much! It must be the shock and loss of blood...”

“Oh come on then, I’ll call you a taxi. And pay for it. Is that all right?”

“Oh, fine, just fine. But… my car is parked right outside your house, and I am a wanted man. It wouldn’t be a good thing for them to find. I’m really thinking of you, you know.”

I sighed. The sooner this devilishly handsome conman is out of my life, the better.

“Alright. I’ll drive you home then. Happy?”

He nodded smugly.

“Well, let me get dressed first. You stay put. Please.” I implored him.

He nodded again, and this time I could’ve sworn he winked at me.

I headed back up the curved staircase, keeping my eye on the burglar until I was back in my room. I quickly changed into a more formal button-up shirt and pants and hastily attached a black tie to the outfit. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to wear it for long.

I exited the room and almost ran back down the staircase, making sure not to slip on the carpet. The man was sitting back at the dining table, methodically tapping his fingers on the dark wood. He looked up at the noise and saw me, freshly dressed, and his steel blue eyes widened at the sight. He immediately took out a notebook and scribbled something down, trying to avoid anymore eye contact.

I went to the bottom of the stairs, grabbed my coat, and headed for the door.

“Coming?” I asked.

We both exited the house and walked out through the driveway to the public street. There were two cars parked nearby, a new looking pastel yellow Jaguar and a beaten up black Pontiac. I instinctively reached to open the door of the less expensive, less attention-getting car.

“Oh, no, the Jaguar is mine.” The man said.

I gestured to the car. “Are you sure about that?” I said in disbelief.

He nodded and opened the car door for me.

The car  _ was _ somewhat comfortable, even if the driver’s seat was positioned considerably farther away than I was alright driving at. The man hopped over the door and sat next to me.

“Alright then. Where to?” I asked.

“The Ritz.” He said.

I had to do a mental double take.

“The  _ what _ ?”

“The Ritz. You know, the large fancy one at-”

“I know what the Ritz is. I didn’t think a burglar would be able to afford it, that’s all.” I replied. “The burglary life must pay pretty well.”

I started the car. Hopefully, this, as lovely as it is, isn’t stolen as well. Coming out of the driveway I almost hit another couple in their car. Thankfully, I had driven in New York City before, so I knew how to avoid imminent death-by-motor-vehicle, and it seemed that Mr. Whatever-his-name-is was more fragile than I thought, as he slid around in his seat, occasionally clutching his arm in “pain” every time I looked over at him.

“You alright?” I asked.

“No, no, it-it hurts…” he whined, holding his left arm.

I sighed. “It’s the other arm.”

He immediately switched his hand. “The infection is spreading.” He argued, looking a little embarrassed.

We arrived at the hotel quickly enough. I pulled into the driveway without killing the both of us.

The burglar sat up straight finally.

“Well then, that was a lovely ride. Thank you again. Now, if there’s any way I can return the favor, just let me know, alright?”

I chuckled. “That seems hardly likely to happen, you know.”

I was about to step out of the car when it hit me.

“Now how am I supposed to get home?” I asked.

“You see,” the burglar grinned, “You never know when you might need a favor.”

He hopped out, and I followed him up the front steps. A bell boy in uniform greeted us.

“Good evening Mr. Dermott, how may I help you?” he asked with company-enforced enthusiasm.

“Ah, yes. I’d like a taxi for this lovely young gentleman here.” The burglar who I assume is named Dermott (or at least that was his last name) replied.

“Yes sir, right away sir.” The bell boy responded, running to call one from the front desk.

“Well. A lovely evening we’ve had tonight hm?” Mr. Dermott said, attempting to break the silence between us.

I shot a look at him. “Don’t push your luck. I still could’ve turned you in, you know.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, “But I’ve got this funny little feeling, and it’s rare I get this, that you’re completely trustworthy.”

I hoped I wasn’t blushing.

The taxi pulled up a few feet away from us. I opened the door and was about to get inside when I heard footsteps jogging up behind me. I could only imagine who it was.

“Listen, Mr. Bonnet, if I could ask you one more teensy favor, like an idiot, I didn’t wear gloves when I… came over to your place. Be an angel; if you would take a cloth when you get home and wipe down the frame, I would be very grateful.” Mr. Dermott said.

The audacity of this man continued to amaze me. First I patched him up, didn’t call the police on him, then drove him “home,” and now he wants me to cover up for him?

“Oh certainly sir,” I replied with just a  _ touch _ of sarcasm, “Would you like anything else? Maybe a false passport, or some fake money or anything hm? I suppose you’ll even want to kiss me goodnight is that it?”

He sighed. “Well, normally I wait for at least the second date before I do that, but you’ve been such a good sport…” He said before promptly kissing me right on the lips, to my surprise.

It’s funny; for someone in such a cold, harsh profession, his lips were so warm and soft. It felt almost magical. 

Unfortunately, he pulled away, and I had to fight to get the look of amazement and passion out of my eyes.

“T-Thanks for that…” I mumbled, sitting down on the taxi seat, staring up into his gorgeous eyes.

He smiled and lifted my legs into the taxi and shut the door.

“Where to, sir?” The taxi driver asked.

I replied and turned to look out the back window until The Ritz was out of view. I turned back around and sighed.

“So that’s your boyfriend then?” The driver asked, shaking me out of my fantasy.

I contemplated my answer for a moment. “I don’t know, honestly…”

He chuckled. “You kids…”


	2. Everything Will Be Alright

Throughout the whole car ride, I was in a daze. I had never been kissed so suddenly and so passionately before; especially not by another man.

Arriving home was easy enough. After pulling into the driveway I stepped out, paying the driver quickly and ambling up the staircase, unlocking the door, and, to my surprise, finding my father opening a bottle of Merlot.

“Ah, Atticus, my son! You missed the opening! It was a smashing success. There were hundreds if not, thousands of people throughout the night!” Father said, “There must’ve been reporters from all over the world there!” He continued.

“Papa I caught a burglar…” I mumbled, slowly coming out of my haze.

“Ah, of course you did my little prince! Now, come over here and…”

He stopped.

“A… burglar? Here? In this house?”

I nodded.

“Well then. S-Sit down here,” he said gesturing to the couch, “And tell me all about what happened.”

I sighed. “Well, it was dark. I was in bed. I heard a noise downstairs, and when I went to check on what was going on, there he was. Tall, slim, quite good looking with simply the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen…” I looked over at Father who had a concerned look on his face. “But a terrible man, Father, ruthless, arrogant, no sense of shame or guilt or…” I trailed off, running my index finger softly over my bottom lip.

I sighed again and took a sip of Father’s wine.

“And what was this burglar doing here, in our house?” He asked.

“Right, yes. He was stealing.” I replied.

Father sighed. “Yes, I understand that my dear, but _what_ was he stealing?”

I pointed up at the Van Gogh painting Father had recently finished forging on the wall.

His eyes widened. “The Van Gogh. Do you think… Do you think he knew about it? Oh, my dear, I’m glad you caught him.”

“Me too, Father,” I said, taking another long sip of the wine.

“A-And, what became of this burglar?” Father asked, pouring himself another glass.

“Oh, I drove him home. I accidentally shot him.”

I heard a sputtering noise and looked over to see Father furiously wiping a wine stain off of his white shirt.

“Shot hi- Drove him home? Atticus, what have you been up to, my dear?”

I laughed softly. “Don’t worry, father. Nothing bad happened, I swear.” I told him, draining the glass and setting it down. “Now, I’m going to go to bed. You have fun and go to bed at a good time.”

“Yes, yes, of course, my dear.” He replied, twisting a cap onto the wine bottle.

I was about to be off, but I remembered what Mr. Dermott had asked of me. I took a clean napkin off the table and gently wiped down the frame of the painting.

I gave my Father a peck on the cheek and was climbing the staircase when I heard him say:

“Atticus, dear. This…tall, good looking, burglar with blue eyes didn’t… molest or hurt you… in any way… did he?”

I thought about it for a moment. “Not much...” I replied, heading up to finally go to bed.


	3. An Unexpected Run-in and a Very Bad Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess people are liking this story then?

Falling asleep was easy enough, I had had enough excitement for one night.

After eating a quick breakfast of buttered toast and orange juice, I decided to see the Father’s Cellini Venus, the one his father, my grandfather, had forged so long ago. I hoped not to take up the family tradition of forging art, as fun as it may seem. I had been watching Father do it since I was born, so I had already picked up a lot of tricks, even if I never planned to use them.

The museum was packed with visitors, as usual. I slinked past the couples, singles and tourist groups who were admiring the paintings I had seen a thousand times already.

The Venus was housed in the center of the main room, surrounded by a circle of blue lights; the alarm system, I suppose.

I was reading the museum pamphlet when too late; I didn’t realize what, or who, I was walking into.

“Sorr-oh NO” I stopped short when I realized who I had just run into.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Bonnet, I’m only here under the most artistic of circumstances.” Mr. Dermott said.

He looked intensely at the statue. “Beautiful…”

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare…” I whispered. There was no way this man, talented as he may be, would be able to steal the Venus, right?

“Oh, don’t you worry, my dear, I am off duty.” He said, patting me on the shoulder.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Mr. Grammont, the museum director. He was the one Father gave the statue to.

He evidently saw me as well, as he quickly made his way over to where I was.

“Ah, Mr. Bonnet, a pleasure to have you here! You and…”

“Oh, this is Mr. Dermott,” I replied.

“Ah, yes, how do you do?” Mr. Dermott said, shaking Mr. Grammont’s hand.

“So, you two are friends then?” Mr. Grammont asked.

I was about to butt in when Dermott said “Oh, yes. Very good friends. We used to shoot together, you see.”

Mr. Grammont, apparently confused, but too polite to say anything, merely nodded his head.

“Ah, I see. Are you interested in art, Mr. Dermott?”

“Oh yes,” He replied, “And in security. And you have so many beautiful things here. And they’re all oh so valuable.”

Mr. Grammont’s face lit up. “Ah, splendid! Let me then show you our state-of-the-art security system that we have protecting Mr. Bonnet’s family statue!”

Dermott smirked at me and followed Mr. Grammont over to the steps leading to the statue.

“Now look here,” Mr. Grammont said pointing at the blue lights, “Those little lights there create a circuit that is impenetrable by just about everything! If anything breaks the circuit, instant alarm!” He snapped his fingers on ‘instant’ for emphasis.

“Now, I know what you’re going to ask,” Mr. Grammont continued, “What if a burglar got in and shut off the alarm?”

Mr. Dermott’s face lit up.

“Well, I was just thinking that exact thing!” He quipped.

I grabbed his wrist. “No, you weren’t!” I stressed. “In fact, we should be going. Now!”

“Oh, come on now, Mr. Bonnet, Mr. Dermott is obviously very interested in this. Let him learn a new thing today!” Mr. Grammont said.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Now, where were we? Ah, yes the alarm! Now you had asked if there was a way to turn it off?”

“Actually, you were going to tell us.” Mr. Dermott coaxed.

“Ah, alright then,” Mr. Grammont replied, “Well, if there was some way for a burglar to get in here, which he wouldn’t be able to do, he wouldn’t even be able to turn off the alarm, because only two other guards and I know the combination to turn the alarm off. I assure you, Mr. Bonnet, your statue is in perfect protection.”

“Great! Well, we have to be off! We have a very important… thing to take care of!” I interjected, grabbing Mr. Dermott’s wrist again and leading him out.

Outside of the museum, I hopped into my car and was about to drive off when I felt a presence, no doubt Mr. Dermott, lean over me.

“You know, I think I’m beginning to like you. You’re quite hot-headed. But listen, there’s something vital I need to tell you, so don’t go awa-!”

I was going to let him finish, but I was so angry with him I slammed my foot on the gas and drove away.

Not hours later I got a call. I tentatively picked up the phone, hoping it not to be Mr. Dermott, even though something deep down inside me wished it to be.

“Mr. Bonnet?” Said the arrogant voice of Leyland Davis.

I threw my head on my pillow in frustration. This man had been pestering me for days now, trying to get a date. He was kind of nice, yes, and he was very rich, yes, but there was something about him that annoyed me, so I had just been ignoring him, until now.

“Mr. Bonnet, listen. I have a date set up for us at the L'Abeille tonight at 7:30 pm. Would you please come? I’d like to talk to you.”

I audibly sighed. Going out with Leyland might help take Dermott off my mind for a while.

“Fine, Leyland. I’ll come. But I ju-”

“WONDERFUL,” He said rather loudly, “I’ll pick you up at your house at 7 pm. Good? Good.” He hung up afterward.

I gingerly put the phone back onto the receiver, rubbing my ear.

A few hours later, I had dressed myself up again, this time a little nicer than I had before. As I was combing my hair, I heard a knock at my door.

“Come in!” I shouted.

“Ah, good evening, my dear!” I heard my father say. “What’s on your agenda for tonight?”

I sighed. “One Davis Leyland asked me out on a date tonight at 7:30. I  _ graciously _ accepted.” I replied with just a  _ hint _ of sarcasm.

“Davis Leyland? The American tycoon? You’re moving up in the world, my dear.”

I sighed. “Father, I don’t care about him. I’m just doing this because I feel bad for him since he’s always calling me.”

“Not for the free food and drinks?” Father asked.

I smiled wide. “You know me too well, Papa.”

“You know, even if you don’t agree with him on a lot of things, there is one thing you can bond over,” Father said.

“Oh?”

“Art, my dear. Mr. Leyland happens to be one of the most open-handed art collectors I’ve ever had the chance of meeting! He’s the one that bought the Toulouse-Lautrec from us so many months ago.”

I froze. Mr. Leyland never said anything about art when we were talking together.

“Father, Mr. Leyland never spoke about art. He said he didn’t even like the subject. You don’t think he’s going to use me to get to you and your collection?” I fretted.

Father laughed. “Oh, don’t worry my dear. If that ever comes, just let me know. Until then, enjoy your free dinner and drinks. You deserve a break, working so hard and even catching that burglar a day ago!”

“Alright Papa, I will. I hope he’s on time…”

Speak of the devil, right as I said that the clock struck 7:00 and I heard a honk outside in the driveway.

“Ah, that must be him,” I said, brushing off my suit, “See you tonight, Father!”

“Have fun, my dear!”

Half an hour later I was eating very, very good food. L'Abeille turned out to be a much more beautiful restaurant than I had thought, and the waiting list must’ve been miles long.

Drinking my second glass of Cabernet, I was mildly interested in the business work Mr. Leyland was talking about.

“So, Mr. Leyland, how did you know which wine to choose? It’s very good.”

“I own a vineyard.”

“That’s nice,” I said, carefully finishing the glass, “How’s owning a vineyard going for you?”

“Oh, it’s going fine. It’s a subsidiary of Eastern Coal and Coke, you see.”

“Eastern Coal and Coke?” I asked.

“Yeah,” He replied, “And that one’s a subsidiary of Western Wool and Flax.”

I decided to keep playing the game, rather than giving up there. “Fascinating,” I goaded, “What’s your growth factor?”

His face seemed to light up. I almost felt bad for this guy, save for the fact I had heard he was incredibly sexist to his female employees.

“Wow, y’know, I have such a hard time talking to men like you, but it’s so… refreshing to see a queer like you so interested in technical business!”

I’m sure if I had been drinking right then I would’ve choked on it. Not only was he using a slur like he thought I would like it, he believes that “men like me” don’t care much for technical business. My opinion of him dropped even farther, but, being polite, I just smiled and nodded.

“You know, Mr. Leyland, I’m enjoying your company, but I hate that it feels like there’s something you’re trying to avoid.” I lied.

He sighed. “Well… I wasn’t going to mention this, but you’ve been such a delightful date that I-”

He was cut off by a waiter tapping him on the shoulder. “Sir, there’s a telephone call for you, from California.”

“California? How’d they track me down here? I was so discreet! Excuse me.” He got up and followed the waiter to a back room.

I picked up the dessert menu and was contemplating ordering some gelato when I felt a person sit down next to me.

Not even looking up I said, “So, Mr. Leyland, how was your-Oh, no, not again!” I looked up halfway through my sentence, and there Mr. Dermott was, casually leaning back on the restaurant bench.

“You know, for someone who I’ve shared such a passionate kiss with, I would’ve expected you to be a bit nicer. I went to a considerable amount of trouble to get these precious little moments together. I need to speak to you about something.”

“Leave the table,” I said affirmatively.

“Oh, come now,” he said scooting closer to me, “It’s National Crime Prevention Week: Take a Burglar to Dinner. I would thank you for the invitation, but…”

I sighed. True, he probably wouldn’t go through the trouble of getting rid of Davis unless he had something somewhat important to say.

“Fine. What do you want?” I asked reluctantly.

His face softened some. “Ah, that’s a good boy,” he said, giving me a little pat with his hand on my cheek, “Now, it seems our little introduction took a bit longer than I would’ve liked, and it seems your date might come back at any moment, so meet me at the Ritz. Ask for Simon Dermott, room 136. See you later, dear!” He gave me a small, quick kiss on the other cheek before hurriedly rushing out of the restaurant. I placed my palm on my cheek. I wish he would stop doing that, because I think I’m starting to like it…

“Mr. Bonnet?”

I jumped back to reality. Where Mr. Dermott, or Simon now, had been sitting was now re-taken by Mr. Leyland, who must’ve seen me gazing off into the middle-distance.

“Oh, yes. Davis. How was your phone call?”

“Hah! It was a prank call. But otherwise fine. How were you? Didn’t miss me too much, I hope?”

Not in the slightest. In fact, I would’ve preferred Simon, as cocky as he is, to be here instead of you.

“Oh, yes, I missed you some,” I lied, “Anyways, what were you going to say before? Something about my father, I think?”

He frowned. “Ah, yes. Well, I hate to tell you this, Mr. Bonnet, but I arranged our meeting.”

“No?” I asked with mock surprise.

“Yes, yes I did. But ever since I laid eyes on it, I’ve been so distraught. I’ve even had trouble sleeping since that night…”

“A-And what exactly are you referring to?” I asked, hoping this wasn’t some twisted metaphor for me.

“Why, the Venus of course!” He enthusiastically replied, “Ever since I saw your Venus on display, I haven’t been able to think of anything else. It’s so gorgeous, just like you.”

Was he trying to flatter me now? I admit, it was quite smooth, but I was still upset about the slur earlier.

“Oh, well thank you, Mr. Leyland. I’m sorry about the statue. Honestly, if it were mine to give I would hand it to you right now, but it’s the museum’s business, not mine or my fathers!”

His face lit up once more. “Really? You-you mean it?”

Ah to hell with it. “Of course I do! You seem like you would be a very responsible owner. And if this is any consolation prize…”

I kissed him lightly on the cheek. Maybe that would get his mind off of business for a while.

“Oh, Mr. Bonnet! That was delightful!”

I sighed. “Wasn’t it? Anyways, Mr. Leyland, you’ve been a terrific date, but I’m sorry, I have an appointment later tonight, and I’d need to leave right about now to get there on time!”

His expression drooped. “Oh, well that’s okay, I guess. When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “Give me a call or drop by. I’m sure my Father would love to talk to you about art sometime!”

I immediately mentally slapped myself for that. The last thing I wanted was for Davis Leyland to be more in my life than he already was. I quickly packed up and left the restaurant.

The cool night air was so refreshing compared to the smoky, rather stuffy atmosphere of the restaurant. Getting into my car and driving back to my house, I began contemplating what to do about what Simon had said. He seemed like he really had something important to tell me, and to be fair, I was a little rude to push him away like that. But honestly, if Mr. Leyland had come back to the table and saw what might’ve looked like another man hitting on me, there wouldn’t be enough beautiful art in the world to stop him from going after Simon.

The next day arrived as quickly as the last one. After eating a cereal breakfast, I was off to visit a friend of mine who works in a little boutique on the other side of Paris.

“Ah, good morning, my dear!” My Father called from the foyer.

“Good morning, Papa! Did you sleep well?” I asked, kissing him on the cheek.

“Yes, I did. Tell me, how did that date with Leyland go?”

I rolled my eyes. “Horrible, Father. The food was good, but he was one of the most boring men I’ve ever met. But on the bright side, he doesn’t know about your forging, so you can keep doing that as long as you want. In fact, he was going to try to use me to get to you, and then he would’ve tried to get the Venus!”

“Really?” My Father’s eyes widened, “All that for a statue? That sounds like a dreadful way to spend a night.”

“It was. Anyways, what will you be doing today, Father?” I asked.

The moment after I said that, our butler, Marcel, came over to where we were.

“Mr. Bonnet?” He asked in a thick French accent.

“Yes?” My father and I both replied.

Marcel chuckled. “There is a man at the door to see Bonnet Sr. He seems to be from the Museum.”

“The Museum?” My father asked, “Must be an excitable young fellow! Show him in, Marcel!”

Soon, in walked an ancient man, carrying a bundle of cases and papers.

“Mr. Bonnet, good to see you. I’m from the Museum, and I’m here to talk to you about one statue, marble, twenty-nine inches in length, titled Venus by a… Cell-ini?” He asked uncertainly about the pronunciation. 

“Yes?” My father replied, “What about the Venus?”

“Well,” the man continued, setting his briefcase down and taking out a long yellowed document, “Your statue is uninsured. If you would sign here, Mr. Bonnet, the museum will insure the statue for a million dollars concerning fire, flood, tornado, hurricane, airplane crash, other natural disasters, loot, sack, pillage, military or civil commotion, building collapse, and of course, larceny or theft. Sign here please.”

Father turned to look at me and shrugged. “Well, what do we have to lose?” He signed the paper. 

“Thank you, sir. Now,” He said packing his papers away, “Would you and your son like to be present at the technical examination?”

I felt my stomach drop. I slowly turned back towards the man. 

“Te-Technical… examination?” I stuttered.

“Of course, Mr. Bonnet. It’s standard procedure, and your father has just authorized it here. Good day.” Said the man before picking up his belongings and promptly walking out.

“Father...”

“I know, Atticus. I know.” He replied.

I knew this was bad. He only ever called me by my name when I was either in trouble or being introduced to someone. This, however, seemed like a particular case.

“Are they going to have that Dr. Baur do the tests?”

“Most likely, my dear.”

“And does he know all of them?”

My father sighed deeply. “Atticus, he’s the man who invented them.”

I sank into a nearby chair, to which my father did as well on the opposite side of the room. 

“This is a travesty, my dear. At the first whiff of suspicion, the whole myth of the Bonnet collection will turn to ash! Every work I’ve ever sold will be scrutinized under micrographs, electrophoresis, shadowgraphs; you name it!”

What were we to do? The Clayber-Lafayette Museum was one of the most heavily guarded places in all of France. There was no way we’d be ever to get the statue back before the examination! But then an idea began to creep into my mind.

I sat up straight suddenly. “I need to go, Father. I’ll be back later.”

I ran up the stairs and started rapidly changing clothes. I knew what I had to do. I was going to call the Ritz and ask for Simon Dermott, under the cover of a secret outfit, of course. If there’s one man I (sort of) trust, especially for a job like this, he would be it. It seems the visit to my other friend would have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, you've made it this far. Please give me feedback, comments, things you hated (lol), etc!! I really appreciate it!!


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